


give me toothaches

by orphan_account



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Denial, First Meetings, M/M, Soulmates, rated t just for vague mcr and some swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 04:36:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19349623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Around the time he turns eleven, he wakes up and finds his Accessory to be lit up with red and yellow and green and pink leather cords interwoven between what was already there, a cat’s pawprint charm joining the feather. And he sits and inspects it, takes it off for the first time in days and turns it inside out and makes sure that it’s his, and he decides that his soulmate is an absolute loser.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I got a sudden burst of inspiration and idk where it came from
> 
> i might write more eventually yeet

It comes in the mail on Pat’s fifth birthday in a bright golden envelope that simply reads,  _ “For Patrick” _ . And parents smile widely and hand him the envelope, laugh as he rips it open with his teeth because his fingers can’t get under the seal, sit him down after a couple of minutes of letting him inspect his Accessory and explain that this is special, he shouldn’t lose it (he wouldn’t be able to, but this is still the same child that pretended to be an orphan for the first week of preschool and got away with it). 

And Pat understands as best a five-year-old whose only conception of a soulmate is his parents and their matching necklaces could, nods and plays with the bracelet and spins it around his arm because it’s made for a grown man, not a too-small child with attention problems and a need to do things with his hands. 

The bracelet is all dark leather in the beginning, black and made up of three thin black cords that wound around each other and with a silver feather charm that he sits and plays with instead of paying attention in Sunday School. By the time he turns ten and begins to actually see the world’s problems as they appear around him, he figures that his soulmate is just as punk and cool as he is. But then around the time he turns eleven, he wakes up and finds his Accessory to be lit up with red and yellow and green and pink leather cords interwoven between what was already there, a cat’s pawprint charm joining the feather. And he sits and inspects it, takes it off for the first time in days and turns it inside out and makes sure that it’s his, and he decides that his soulmate is an absolute loser.

He takes off the bracelet before his first kiss at age twelve, just to make sure that his soulmate somehow doesn’t find out. Because he knows Maryanne Lee isn’t his soulmate (her Accessory is a mood ring that hasn’t changed from green since she first met him), he knows that Jesus said to save himself for his soulmate. But she’s cute in that pink dress and he’s a twelve-year-old Catholic boy with nothing else to do on a Sunday after mass. And, as he stalks back to the brunch, he slips his bracelet back on and ignores the burn he feels as it hits his skin, the colors somehow seeming brighter and louder than before. Because, to quote his dad every time the news talks about the Government, it’s bullshit. 

Every time he kisses someone he knows isn’t his soulmate, the bracelet in his pocket burns brighter and hotter, almost as if it’s reminding him that he’s  _ wrong  _ and that this is  _ wrong _ . But that’s probably the Catholic guilt hitting him again, the old bitch refusing to die. He’s past it by now, probably, mostly, really. Jesus’ words don’t hit like they used to.  _ “Save yourself for your soulmate, for yours will be eternal life once you are joined," _ his ass. So he kisses, and he kisses, because he likes kissing and it gives him some sort of feeling other than sadness and hatred and despair and soul-crushing loneliness that only comes out of making out with people he doesn’t love in an attempt to get some sort of feeling in his body for the first time in years. And half the time it doesn’t work, nothing works, and all he can do is sit and listen to too-loud music and let it wash him away, because these bands  _ fucking get it _ . Gerard fucking gets it, and it’s nice to not be alone (even though he’s technically never alone, his soulmate is supposedly always with him in the form of his Accessory, but, like, fuck that. Whoever she is, she isn’t helping him out. She’s making him feel worse, and he fucking hates her. Really). 

College slips by. He loses his bracelet after a finals week bender and feels like he’s going  _ crazy _ , because he needs something and someone he can’t find again until he gets it back and if he doesn’t he’ll die alone under a bridge like his grandma always told him he would. And when he finds it under a pillow two hours after finding it gone and feels a sense of relief that reminds him of the feeling of his first kiss all over again: warm and gooey, but actually right and not full of disgust and twelve-year-old angst. 

He finds a girl whose Accessory is almost identical, the only difference being the charms are switched with a gold feather and a silver paw, but it’s good enough for him, and he throws himself into it faster and harder than anything before. And when he pulls his bracelet back on after his first night at her place, it leaves a physical burn on his skin that doesn’t go away after immediate aloe and third day drinking and moping because her skin’s as burned as his is. Only his burns in the form of a pawprint, something that sticks around even when his bracelet’s off while he’s in the shower. And Jesus wasn’t right, that bitch boy is never right about anything in Pat’s life, never has been, never will be. Because Pat can still kiss her, and he does and she kisses him and they switch their bracelets onto their opposite wrists to avoid upsetting their burns even more, but  _ still _ . He still breaks it off after a year because something in the pit of his stomach doesn’t sit right, and she just sighs and moves her stuff out of his apartment and never speaks to him again. 

Polygon, honestly, is an accident. He didn’t mean to find it, didn’t mean to land himself a job half a dozen states away in the biggest city in the country. But it’s the City that Never Sleeps, and Pat’s never been a fan of the Sandman, not in years and years and years. And so it happens, and he lets it happen, lets himself get attached to people he could only dream of knowing and making more friends than he’s had in years and letting himself be ridiculous on the internet for no good reason. And he enjoys it, and he kisses Simone once at a non-denominational holiday party and they both agree to never do it again, and then the only thing he kisses is the space between his cat’s ears. Because he  _ feels things  _ again, and it’s kind of funny how it took until he was done trying to force emotions for them to show up again. Very funny. Really. 

He barely catches a glimpse of the guy’s Accessory in his cover letter, and that’s all he gets because he isn’t involved in the hiring process. He’s just the weird Toad guy who can actually make coffee, unlike half the fucking  _ degenerates  _ in the office. And he hears the guy gets hired a couple of weeks after, and that’s that. 

Supposed to be the end. 

But Pat’s always had shit luck, so he’s editing when the newbies are being shown around the office by a very tired-looking Tara, and then, as they pass by his desk, his bracelet burns as cold as dry ice and he and the new guy hiss in unison. 

Pat pulls his headphones off and turns his head, cradling his wrist to his chest and trying to remember what the protocol is for a cold burn and if it fucking exists at all, and he freezes in place when his eyes meet the new guy’s. 

The bracelet sitting on the new guy’s right wrist is a perfect match to Pat’s, from the colors to the charms to the way it sits, lopsided like he keeps messing with it. And this is fucky, so, so fucky, because Pat isn’t  _ gay _ , he knows that much about himself. He’s only been into girls in the past and a couple wrestlers and Gerard Way and...oh, fuck. He needs to read up on things tonight when he’s panicking at his roommate (Harold found his soulmate months ago and is Pat’s only real source of quality information that isn’t his parents). 

“Oh, shit,” Tara says, sounding like she’s known this was coming for weeks now, and she maybe did, the wonderful woman. “Wow. Isn’t this crazy?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the moment he got his bracelet in the mail, Brian knew their first meeting was going to be magical. There was going to be a kiss, or a hug, or at least a smile. When he was younger, Brian was convinced there’d be a rainbow. When he stopped wearing his bracelet, he shifted that into sunshine. But it wasn’t supposed to be an awkward handshake with a man he’d dreamed of meeting for years but who looked maybe-disgusted and absolutely weirded out in a dark office building because the lights above Pat Gill’s desk were out and it was raining. But Brian’s always been a romantic, he should’ve known none of that would happen. It was too unrealistic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple people asked for it, so here it is!

Brian’s always felt a bit weird about his soulmate. 

When he first got his bracelet, the black bits seemed to envelop the colorful ones, swallow them and keep them all hidden. He didn’t even know there were beads until his tenth birthday when they suddenly burned into his skin in the middle of the night (he refused to take it off, back then, he thought that would get rid of his soulmate). And his parents told him it was fine, that it only meant his soulmate was exploring themself (they knew from the minute they caught Brian watching Twilight over their shoulders too late at night, saw him staring at both leads like he didn’t know which one was better). But exploration could only take so much time out of the day, and out of the night, and out of, well, everything. 

Brian took off his bracelet for the first time when he was eleven and it burned so hot he swore it burned his skin. 

Years later, his bracelet burned a weird cold when he clicked on a random Youtube video too late at night when he should’ve been studying, and the guy’s hands were out of frame for most of the video, but Brian caught a glimpse of his Accessory and knew. The beads were brighter than they were on Brian’s bracelet and there was more pink than black, but they matched. And there Brian was, crying on his bed at three in the morning watching a man talk about Toad for far too long. And Jonah laughed at him like best friends do, and Laura laughed at him over the phone like sisters do, and Brian laughed at himself because his soulmate was not only a guy, was not only the most beautiful man Brian’s seen since Aaron Tveit in _Les Mis_ , but had a crush on fucking Waluigi. 

Cut to even more years later as Brian shakes his soulmate’s hand, registers how cold it is, how _horrified_ his soulmate looks, and Brian just smiles and ducks his head and moves on with the tour because his boss was tapping her foot and Jenna (he thinks she’s Jenna, might be Jenny, he’s a bit too preoccupied) was almost giggling. And his boss gives him a firm congratulations as they walk, Jenna (it is Jenna, okay) puts her number in his phone and tells him to text her _“literally everything, Brian, please, dear God”_. And his soulmate doesn’t say a word to him for the rest of the day.

-

“I’m fucked,” Brian tells Jonah and Laura as they settle around the table and pass around the communal bodega wine and keep Brian from panicking too much about his soulmate hating him. 

“It’s not like he can say no, technically,” Laura shrugs, not flinching at Brian’s moan of disgust and dread. “What’s he gonna do, fight God?”

“God isn’t real,” Brian wails, flopping to the side and draping himself over Jonah’s shoulders. Why couldn’t it have been Jonah after all (they thought it was, for a while, Jonah’s bracelet matches everything except for the color of the carms)? “I’m going to die alone.”

His phone pings and it’s Jenna asking if he knows where the fuck she can find a subway station that isn’t full of creeps, and he says that he doesn’t, and she says that she hopes her soulmate is as strong-looking as Pat Gill is, and Brian drinks three glasses of wine before he answers. Pat Gill doesn’t even know his name, he says, and Jenna types for so long that Brian throws his phone to the other side of the apartment and cries into Jonah’s shoulder some more, because that’s what Jonah’s for. Mario Kart, guitar, and being good crying material. 

-

From the moment he got his bracelet in the mail, Brian knew their first meeting was going to be magical. There was going to be a kiss, or a hug, or at least a smile. When he was younger, Brian was convinced there’d be a rainbow. When he stopped wearing his bracelet, he shifted that into sunshine. But it wasn’t supposed to be an awkward handshake with a man he’d dreamed of meeting for years but who looked maybe-disgusted and absolutely weirded out in a dark office building because the lights above Pat Gill’s desk were out and it was raining. But Brian’s always been a romantic, he should’ve known none of that would happen. It was too unrealistic. 

-

Weeks of hopeful glances and crying into pillows later, Pat stops by Brian’s desk, hovering awkwardly with his hands shoved in his back pockets like an anime protagonist staring down at his feet. Brian pulls his headphones off and tries not to look too happy. This is probably the _“I don’t hate you, but I hate your soul and heart and very existence”_ talk he’s been preparing himself for since they first met. 

“Did you get my email?” he asks, and Brian blinks a few times, trying to figure out where that fits into everything. 

“About the stream?” Brian asks, and Pat nods, and Brian’s heart drops into his stomach. “I thought I replied.”

“You did. I just. Can we try not to make it too awkward?”

“Like…” Brian trails off. Pat sighs and mimes pulling his bracelet off with a disheartened popping noise when the phantom bracelet would leave his wrist. “Yeah, okay. Yeah. I’ll, uh, I’ll try.”

“Thanks.” Pat raises his head and flashes a grin that, while bored and uneasy-looking, still sends a flutter of something into Brian’s chest. “Thanks for putting up with me.”

“It’s what I, uh. Yeah. Of course.”

Pat nods again and shuffles away towards the stream room to get set up. 

And the stream goes fine, Pat talks about the game (he fucking loves the game, Brian keeps that in mind for the future. If there is a future), Brian tries not to be too awkward. Pat asks if Brian’s ever called anyone an old man, and Brian shuts down, and Pat just laughs it off, and is that flirting? Is Brian just thinking too much again (because Laura’s been telling him that he thinks too much and he should just, like, tell his soulmate to buck up or fuck off)? 

Pat gives Brian his number after the stream, muttered and barely noticable over the pounding of Brian’s heart. And Brian feels it in his soul, and, as he slips his bracelet back on, it flashes cold again, and Brian jumps a little at the sensation. And Pat fucking. He smiles at him and just about runs out of the room. 

-

“I thought my soulmate was gonna be a ginger,” Pat tells him. It’s late, the group’s at the nearest bar celebrating something Brian wasn’t told about, it’s just the two of them sitting at the bar while the others are piled into a booth talking about whether or not Animal Crossing counts as a horror game or not (“Capitalism is the only true horror,” Pat had said, deadpanned, and Brian had almost coughed up his beer out his nose). “Don’t know why.”

Brian snorts, stares down at his empty glass. Bracelet’s on; Pat’s in his pocket, it’s a weird unspoken agreement at this point that they both won’t have them on until they’re ready (and Brian knows he’s ready, that it’s just Pat that’s being weird, but he’s too far gone and not enough of an asshole to even think about calling him out on anything). “I thought mine was Jack Black for, like, two years.”

Pat laughs into his whiskey. “Shit, really?”

Brian shrugs and fiddles with his napkin. “Yeah. We were going to meet up in Hollywood, he was going to whip out a guitar, and the wedding was going to be the next day. I, uh. Dumb kid.”

“Yeah,” Pat agrees. His face does something weird, and he shakes his head. “I mean. No. Not dumb. You were probably the genius kid.”

Brian blushes because he’s a fucking idiot. “Definitely wasn’t.”

Pat nudges his side with a sharp, boney elbow, smiling slightly, almost softly (but that’s probably the light). “Dude, you’re smart. Kid you was probably smarter.”

“Pat Gill, are you telling me that I got dumber?”

And Pat fucking _flushes_ , ducking his head almost until it’s against the bar. He waves a hand erratically, almost smacking Brian in the face. “No! You’re- you’re a fucking _genius_ , Brian!”

Brian sighs and orders a water because it’s almost eleven and he needs to get home to his cat and his lovely, beautiful panic pillow. “Chill out, Patrick, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine, I’ve been. I’ve been trying so hard,” Pat huffs, dropping his forehead against the bar with a heavy thud. “You’re the first guy I’ve ever tried flirting with, you know?”

“Wait. You mean, like, actual first? Ever?”

“Yeah. I had my- fuck, what’s it called? Simone told me. Uh, you get me, though, right? My whole big deal?”

Brian does not get what he’s talking about. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Pat snaps. “Bisexual awakening! That thing! It’s just hard, Brian.”

And Brian thinks maybe they’ve had a bit too much, and he orders Pat a water as well. Pat turns his head onto its side and looks up at Brian, face red from the alcohol. The alcohol. 

He sighs again, takes a sip of his water as soon as it’s in front of him. He says, “Look, Patrick, it’s fine if you’re not cool with this. Happens all the time.”

It doesn’t happen all the time, they’re supposed to be _happy_ and _in love_ and not dealing with this teenage-drama bullshit. 

Pat puts a hand on Brian’s wrist, right over his bracelet, and he almost looks afraid, if that’s a thing Patrick Gill can look like. 

“Shit, Brian, I’m sorry. I’ve been a real dick about this, haven’t I?”

Brian nods, looks down at Pat’s hand and puts his own hand on top of it, squeezing lightly. “Sure have, Pat. But it’s fine, you were figuring things out. I can wait.”

“I don’t want you to.”

And Brian laughs and shakes his head, pulls his hand away and stands, stumbles, tries to remember where he left his jacket. Right, office, okay. He’ll get it Monday. Pat’s immediately getting to his feet, too, digging around for his wallet, and Brian just sighs and gently pushes him back to the stool. 

“Tell me all that when you aren’t five whiskeys in,” he tells him, and something in Pat’s eyes harden and he nods. 

-

Monday, Pat’s waiting in the lobby for him, the sleeves to his hoodie rolled up, his bracelet on full display. Brian nods at him and moves to pull his own off (Pat gets Mondays, fuck, he forgot), but Pat grabs his wrist.

“I’m no Jack Black,” he says, “but I, uh, I brought my guitar. For the stream, but I can give you a taste. If you want?”

Brian blinks. “Pat, it’s Monday.”

Pat blinks once, twice, swears and pulls his hand away and runs it through his hair. “ _Fuck_ , I knew something was- sorry. That was stupid.”

Brian smiles and takes Pat’s hand out of his hair, gently pulls it back down and swings it between the two of them. “I didn’t know you could play guitar, Patrick.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: [asorrywrite](https://asorrywrite.tumblr.com/)
> 
> If you want to swing by there, have at it! Prompts are open over there because I've found I work better when I'm told what to write and I don't have to think as much. take that as you will. 
> 
> And stay beautiful, y'all. Love you. Yes, even you.


End file.
